Chapter Four
Liam
Damn, he never could resist a kid. And the kid was adorable, almost as adorable as his mom. Liam rubs his hands over his face and blows out a long, weary sigh. It’s just dinner, he tells himself. It doesn’t mean anything. She’s being friendly, paying him back for fixing her sink. She’s got a great rack. Liam shakes his head to clear the image. He can’t let a banging body and a pretty smile sway his vow to stay the hell away from needy women. All women, really. In his experience, they cause more trouble than they’re worth. Especially the pretty, needy ones. But, he can’t let the kid down. So dinner it is.
Liam heads into the bathroom and splashes his face with water, scrubbing at the tension lines across his forehead before shucking his t-shirt and slipping into a button-up shirt. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone but he didn’t want to go over looking like a complete slob. After his quick beauty routine he steps out into the hall and heads to Willow’s door. He raps sharply on the door and hears Frank yelling and his mom shushing him. He smiles at the sounds but schools his face into his normal bored expression when Willow pulls open the door.
“Hi, come on in.” She steps back and ushers him in with a smile. “Have a seat.”
Liam gives her a quick once-over and notes he’s not the only one who changed for dinner. She’s pulled up her hair into a loose bun and slipped into a little sundress with small, blue flowers dotted over a white background. A row of buttons curves over her breasts and down the length of the front. He has a quick flashing image of ripping open that row of buttons and finding out she’s wearing nothing underneath. He pushes the thought away and shifts quickly around her, heading to the sofa where Frank is sitting with his plastic truck.
“I’ll only be a few minutes,” Willow says over her shoulder as she makes her way to the kitchen. Liam watches the way her skirt sways across the backs of her thighs. Some of her hair has escaped her bun and curls across the sweep of her neck. It looks tender, like it’s inviting someone to take a bite. Shit. Liam stretches his leg out awkwardly as he realizes the fit of his jeans is suddenly tighter. The feeling goes as quickly as it came when Frank bumps his truck over the top of Liam’s feet.
Liam leans over, propping his elbows on his knees, and smiles at the little boy zooming his truck over the carpet and around Liam’s legs. “What you got there, little man?”
“My best truck.” Frank grins proudly and holds the toy up for Liam’s inspection.
Liam takes it from the boy and turns it over in his hands, inspecting it from all angles, making appreciative noises before handing it back to the kid. “That’s a pretty awesome truck there.” Frank grins and climbs onto the sofa beside Liam, pulling his truck up behind him. He settles in and starts babbling at Liam, his entire lispy conversation centered around someone called Firedog, or Marshal, or both. Liam isn’t sure really but he keeps up his part of the chat by nodding.
While the kid is chattering, Liam takes the chance to get a better look around Willow’s apartment. While everything is obviously second-hand, she takes care to keep her place clean and neat. Their few possessions are tidy and organized: books stacked under the small television stand, toys in a small basket in the corner. He sees that Willow has tried to make the place homey, with a plant near the window, which is draped with striped curtains, and colorful pillows stacked on the only chair. There’s a shabby comfortability to the place that Liam likes. The babbling of the preschooler next to him and the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen only add to the scene and Liam finds himself relaxing for the first time in years.
Wait just a second now.
He gives himself a mental shake and gets up from the sofa, heading over to the window and peering down into the small building courtyard. He can’t let himself get comfortable. Can’t let his guard down. Can’t let anyone in. That could be dangerous. The last time he let someone in he’d wound up in the worst situation of his life. He’d have this one meal and be on his way. Willow and her cute kid and delicious-smelling meal and perky ass be damned.
“Dinner’s ready, guys.”
Liam turns to find Willow standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a frilly little apron wrapped around her waist and sweet smile on her face. Is this chick for real? He’d only ever seen a girl in an apron in a porno film. He hopes that isn’t what she has in mind. When the kid jumps down and runs into the kitchen Liam gives himself a mental smack. Of course she’s not trying to seduce him. Her kid’s running around and maybe some chicks really do wear aprons. And maybe this will turn out to be the longest meal of his life. Liam takes a deep breath and follows Willow into the kitchen.
The small table is set for dinner and the smell is incredible. This girl can cook. Frank jumps into a chair with a little seat attached to it and Liam slides into the spot next to him, checking out the spread on the table. Liam didn’t think meatloaf could look appealing but hers is nicely browned and arranged in slices across a tray, sauce ladled over the top. A bowl of fluffy potatoes dotted with butter and whole green beans are on offer too. And topping it off, a basket of what look like homemade rolls emit a delicious waft of yeasty steam when Willow pulls the napkin off the top.
“Damn girl! Where did you learn to cook?”
She laughs as he begins to eat as if his life depends on it. He wants to be polite, but once he’s had a taste of everything, the last thing he wants to do is stop.
“My grandma taught me.”
“Not your mom?”
She chokes. “I can’t remember the last time I saw her. She spent most of her time on the road. I used to think of her as always looking for love.”
“Instead of looking after her own kid.”
Shit! This is why I don’t do company or chit-chat.
Liam finds himself regretting coming over and having dinner. This is the reason that he tries to keep to himself. He is crap at small talk and even worse at trying to make people feel better.
Frank sits eating, oblivious to the conversation, but Liam feels bad. Real annoyed at himself for coming over and asking about her mom.
“Sorry.”
“No, it was a long time ago. And you’re right; Harriet never looked after me.”
“What did you say?”
“Oh my mom, she’s called Harriet. She never wanted me to call her Mom. Always by her first name.”
Liam, suddenly lost in his thoughts, was about to say something else, when Frank said, “Okay Willow.”
She grinned at him. “You, my dear, can call me Mom.”
He had thought for a split second that it was too much of a coincidence. But no, Willow’s mom just happened to have the same name as his ex. Although Harriet wasn’t officially his ex. They’d never gotten divorced, and even though she’d changed her name, as far as he was concerned they were merely estranged until he’d figured out what he was going to do with her once he found her.
“I can do that,” he says gruffly and pulls the meatloaf to him, spearing a slice and sliding it to his plate.
Willow laughs. “Sorry, habit I guess. Waitressing, mommying, I guess it’s ingrained in me to help. Speaking of which…”
She heads to the refrigerator and comes back with a pitcher of iced tea. When she leans over to pour Liam a glass he catches of glimpse of the soft pink skin of her breasts and she leaves the sweet smell of vanilla behind when she moves. He needs to eat and get the hell out of here.
Whenever they’re all served, Liam tucks into his meal. Shit. It’s delicious. And he can tell none it came out of a box. Willow’s a fucking poor Martha Stewart. He notices that it’s quiet and looks up to find Willow giving him an amused look.
“Hungry?” she grins at him.
Liam clears his throat and takes a swig of tea. “Yeah. It’s good. Don’t get much homemade food.”
Willow beams at him, her smile lighting up her face, her cheeks blushing with pleasure at his faint praise. “Thank you,” she says and scoops him up another serving of potatoes.
Liam turns back to his meal. He’d have to watch what he said around her. She seemed so eager for someone to say anything nice to her. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. He finishes up his food in silence, only glancing up a few times to find her watching him with a puzzled look on his face. The only sound at the table as they eat is the clink of silverware against the plates and the soft noise of Frank choo-chooing a green bean around his dish.
As soon as his plate is cleared, Liam pushes his chair back with a scrape. “Thanks, I should…”
“Oh, no, wait a little longer.” Willow jumps up, running to the fridge, and pulling out a dish, bringing it back to the table with a shy smile. “It’s toffee pudding. My favorite when I was a kid. You were such a good boy, cleaning your plate, you can have dessert.”
Liam gives her a close look and then realizes that she really is just offering him pudding. With a little shake of his head, he drops back into the chair and watches her serve out pudding and top it off with whipped cream.
Twenty minutes later, he’s still there, sitting on her sofa with Frank on his knee, thinking maybe he’d jumped the gun a little when it came to his hot, cooking neighbor. She just seemed lonely more than anything and he could relate to that. He’d never seen anyone but a teenaged girl he figured was the babysitter coming in and out of her apartment. The walls were thin here and if she had a boyfriend he’d most definitely know. Besides, this was a one-bedroom apartment so the kid obviously shared a room with his mom. He was getting a good impression of this chick and didn’t think she’d be bringing men around her kid. She didn’t appear to have anyone. And even though his rudeness was partly self-preservation, maybe he didn’t have to be such a grunting caveman around her.
“So, thanks for dinner. It really was good. And, you know, if you need anything just let me know,” he finally says.
Frank has gone heavy on his lap and he looks down to find the boy curled up, eyes drifting shut, little fingers in his mouth.
“Thank you. So much.” She smiles at him. “Oh, here. Let me take him.” She moves over and lifts the sleeping boy into her arms.
“I should get going.” Liam makes to head for the door when she stops him with a word.
“Stay.”
“I should…”
“Please,” she says softly. “Keep me company for a little bit.”
She’s looking up at him with those sugared violet eyes and he can see the loneliness in her gaze. He should go but he knows he’s going to stay.